A few minutes later, he was standing at the window watching the pitiful scene across the street again. Unlike the department store, none of the floors remained high enough off the ground to allow people to crawl out. A new body had been added to the dead and a woman sat nearby, holding her bleeding head in both hands. Collin turned and walked into the control room. Keeping his voice down, he leaned toward Max, "I'm going down there."

"And do what?"

"I don't know, take a closer look, count the dead and see about the injured. Maybe Sarah can get them some help."

Max turned to look at the sincerity in his friend's eyes, then lowered his gaze. "Collin, there's something you need to understand. Help is a long way off. You've been listening, we've got reports of damage, deaths and injuries, but the only good news is about an Aircraft Carrier and four choppers. We don't even know if they're medical units. Real help takes 24 to 48 hours after a disaster. All we've got is ourselves."

"I'm going anyway. The least I can do is let them know somebody cares. Besides, I'll go nuts if I don't do something."

Max mulled it over, then reluctantly nodded. "Don't take too long, I can't handle this place by myself."

"Great."

As soon as he was gone, Max got up, hobbled into the studio and made sure the mike was close enough to the Ham Radio. Next, he turned the volume up a little, and then went back to the control room.